Dean's Job
by sahbeL
Summary: When Sam's been dead for a couple of hours and Dean's body's so exhausted that there's just no avoiding microsleeps. Spoilers for both AHBL episodes 2.21 x 2.22


Soooo, this is my first EVER Supernatural fic. I've been a fan right from the very start though. ) and I've been reading a lot of fanfiction, just haven't gathered the guts to write one until now and submit it for all you brilliant writers to read. Please be nice?

Spoilers: 2.21 & 2.22 (Both AHBL Episodes)  
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_This is the life,_ Dean thinks to himself as he leans a hip against the side of the Impala, arms crossed over his chest and gaze directed towards the shadowy figure that was Sam, silhouetted by sunset and strolling easily through 2 feet of weeds and grass.

Parked on the side of a dirt road, out in the middle of god-only-knows-where, watching the sunset and a handful of peanut M&Ms made for his mouth, Dean smothers a smirk as his little brother stumbles over something and muffles an irritated noise.

"Better pick up your feet and quit walkin' like a girl, Princess. That almost sounded like a squeal," Dean calls teasingly as Sam's freakishly long legs eats the rest of the ground between them within seconds.

"Ha ha Dean," Sam retorts weakly with a small grin of his own. Dean opens his hand obligingly as Sam picks out a blue M&M and pops it into his mouth, leans his own weight against the car and faces the glow of the setting sun.

_This is so the life, _Dean thinks to himself again. Just him and his geeky little brother, out on the road where they should be and snacking on every kind of junk food imaginable during their rare, get-out-of-the-car-and-stretch-your-legs breaks.

He wasn't a big fan of chick flick moments - anyone who was anyone knew _that._ But these moments were good and rare between them. Just sections in their lives where they were just brothers - nothing to run from and no hunt to get to. It didn't matter where they were, what was waiting for them in the next town or what they had to get to - when Dean needed a breather; to get things back into perspective; all he had to do was pull the car over. Just pull the car over, breathe in whatever-kind-of-air was outside of the car and remind himself of moments like this. When he and Sam were nothing else but brothers.

"So that psycho-bitch totally had you pinned and would've kicked your ass if I hadn't come along…" Sam announces without looking at him.

"Dude," Dean replies with a disagreeing shake of his head, "No way, okay. I had everything under control."

Sam throws him a glance with one eyebrow raised and smirks softly. A moment of silence passes them by, and then Dean hears Sam clear his throat.

"You so got owned by a _girl_."

_That's it._ "Hey! That psycho-bitch wasn't a girl, okay? She was like…some…freaky, lion thing with super strength! And you can't talk either! She threw _your_ sasquatch body half way across the room!"

Sam doesn't look at him and smiles at the ground instead, and (don't tell Sammy) but he loves moments like this and seeing his little brother smile, because Sam doesn't do that much these days…doesn't do much but The Job these days.

"…You're always there, aren't you…" Sam murmurs softly, the smile fading from his lips and a serious expression taking over his face. Dean hears the 'given' in his words. Sam wasn't _asking_ if he was always going to be there, he was saying it as a statement. Like Dean being _there_ is where Dean is always _supposed_ to be.

Dean watches Sam. Wonders what the hell is going on in his brother's freaky little head, and then softly and confidently replies, "Yeah Sammy, always. Who else is gonna take care of you…"

Sam doesn't answer him. Instead, his brother wrinkles his nose, sniffs and glances away with a sudden burst of movement. The sun's set low enough that it's just shadows across Sam's face, but Dean thinks he sees tears as Sam continues to stare at the ground.

"Sam?"

One word, and Dean knows that his brother can hear everything it's supposed to mean. _What is it?_ I'll fix it. _What's wrong?_ I'm here. _Are you hurt?_ Tell me. _Whatever it is, we'll get through it together._ I got you.

He lets his brother arrange his thoughts. Gives him time to get everything in his brain organised and understandable enough to be said out loud, because Sam's freaky head is messy like that. Only his little brother would have the messiest thoughts in the world.

Dean expects a speech. A rant even! Because things that bother Sam make him ramble and talk until his throat's dry, and by the end of it, Dean's contemplating on whether he should whack his little brother on the back of the head for talking his ears off and almost boring him to death.

But what Dean doesn't expect is three short little words. Three short little words that forces a jolt through his system and makes him blink in sudden confusion and surprise.

"Wake up, Dean."

Sam says them hoarsely, with a sad tinge in his tone and Dean frowns. He feels something in his chest that makes his heart hurt and he starts to feel the beginnings of panic and fear, because Sam knows something. Dean _knows_ that Sam knows something that he doesn't know, and his mind's reeling because now he's frantically trying to remember what it is.

"Sam, what--"

"--You need to wake up Dean." His brother rasps again and raises his gaze to meet Dean's. And now there's no doubt about it, because Dean sees the tears that he thinks he imagined earlier, falling from the corner of Sam's puppy-dog eyes. His frown deepens and he doesn't quite know how to deal with Sam's sudden double-back of moods…not that he ever does anyway. So being the older brother that he is, he deals with it the same way he's dealt with emo-Sam before. He keeps his game face on and tries to shake it off.

"Come on, Sammy, quit with the moping. We just wasted another crazy, psycho-bitch! Let's celebrate a little, huh?"

But it doesn't work. Sam holds his gaze with a sadness in his own, and Dean _still_ has no idea what he's missing and what only Sam knows, and it's starting to scare him because the look on Sam's face says that _this is serious. This is important and I need you._

"Dean…" Sammy whispers to him, blinking through the silent tears in his eyes, "…You have to wake up now, Dean. You have to wake up and remember. You can't stay here…"

He still doesn't know what he needs to remember, but suddenly, Dean thinks that he doesn't really _want_ to remember what he's forgotten. Because the pain in his chest is getting stronger, and along with it is a sinking feeling in his gut, and a hole that's getting bigger and bigger in his stomach that doesn't feel like it's going to go away any time soon.

"Stop it, Sam. I'm serious now, quit talkin' like that. You're scaring me…" he adds softly. Not quite at ease with admitting it but saying it aloud all the same, because maybe then, Sam'll get the point and just shut up about waking up and remembering things. It's just like his geeky little brother to go and ruin a perfect 'breather' moment like this by getting all emo, creeping him out and dragging a chick-flick moment out of him.

Sam doesn't shut up though. Instead he continues to push Dean about waking up and remembering things. And his brother's using the same voice that he uses when he's cautious of spooking one of the civilians they're meant to save - like Dean's a loose canon that'll explode right at the part when things start to get way too creepy and whacked out. And in some ways, he is! He is because now, Sam's totally starting to _piss him off _with this waking up and remembering bullshit. He can feel the heaviness inside him trying to drag him down, and it's all because of Sam talking all cryptic-like. He's still trying to decide on whether he should just put a boot up his brother's ass for scaring the crap out of him, or humour Sam and get all mushy with all the tears and stuff when Sam murmurs softly and sadly - again.

"Dean. Wake up. You can't stay here, you have to wake up. _Now._"

And it's like Sam's clocked him a punch in the gut because all of a sudden he remembers. He remembers everything and he can't stop the memories of what just happened in the past few hours. He and Sam _weren't_ parked on the side of the road watching the sun set. This wasn't one of his 'breather' moments. And Sam's just looking at him sympathetically. Like he knows. And he _does, goddamit! _He fucking knows it and it's like he's just waiting for Dean to catch up. To get his head around the fact that Sam's _dead_. _Really dead._

"No…" Dean croaks brokenly.

Sam gazes at him sadly and moves forward a step, close enough that Dean can feel his brother's soft, even _breaths_. He can't speak, he doesn't know what to say, doesn't _want_ to remember the rest of it. Doesn't want to go back to where he's _supposed_ to be.

"No!" He croaks again. Harsher. Stronger than before. Because he's praying. Hopes that he's praying hard enough for all this not to be true. But his prayers are full of crap because Sam's next words are painful and sad.

"You're dreaming, big brother. Wake up…" And then his little brother leans forward ever so slowly, and wraps Dean into his arms. Like it's goodbye. Like there's nothing else for Dean to do but wake up. And Dean feels stupid! He feels stupid because he can't think of anything else to do but return Sam's hug. Blindly and faithfully, like he's accepting this. Like he's okay with the fact that Sam's_ (dead) _gone.

But he's not. No way in hell is he going to just sit back and let Sam keep being dead. Because what else is his job but to protect Sam! And he can't protect Sam when Sam's _dead._ He has no job when Sam's dead. So he keeps hanging onto Sam, with arms wrapped tight around his sasquatch of a brother - and murmurs the same words he'd blabbered earlier that...day? ...into Sam's ear.

"Listen to me, we're gonna patch you up, okay? You're gonna be good as new. I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take care of you, I gotcha. It's my job right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother."

"Dean…" Sam murmurs in reply, never loosening his arms as they embrace. "Wake up." Sam repeats again.

And this time he can't fight it. The words catch, and he can't fight it. The next time he blinks he's back in the dark, dingy motel room, head resting on his crossed arms, table creaky beneath him. And dead-Sam's still in the other room, lying on the bed, like he's sleeping. But not. Because if Sam were just sleeping, he'd be all twisted arms and legs and soft snores - not cold limbs and blue lips. And Dean's words are still reverberating in his ears.

_"I'm gonna take care of you, I gotcha. It's my job right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother."_

And suddenly he _knows._ He knows what to do next. What he HAS to do next. And it hits him with one single, sure thought. Like a neon sign that pops up after miles and miles of darkness. Dean _knows_ what he has to do next.

_'Crossroads…'_

And he keeps that single word stuck in his brain. Holds it there instead of replaying the part of Sam dying in his arms. Keeps it there like a talisman, instead of replaying the moment when the light leaves Sam's eyes. He keeps it there until he gets there, and then he buries the box with his picture inside it, deep enough in the dirt for her to hear his call and make another deal.

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I would love to know what you guys think! Good? Bad? I should never write again? lol. I'm open to any corrections, criticisms erm...yes, etc. hehehe. There's always room for improvement...  
Oh, and just in case anyone's interested, the background music to the creation of this shot was 'Take Me Under' by Three Days Grace. (coz I was sooo trying to get into the angsty-ness of it all...)

Thanks for reading!


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